Chapter 10 Falco
FALCO
Aerin’s face crumples like I’ve just struck her and she steps away from me. My hands fall to my sides.
The urge to say more rises in me like a surge of vomit. I should tell her that she’s not misreading things and my interest grows by the day.
That I can’t stop thinking about every detail of her, from her gorgeous green eyes and autumn curls right down to her sharp attitude.
I should tell her that even when she’s arguing with me, I like listening to her and how her terrible act of handcuffing us together was exactly the kind of abrupt action I like.
I should tell her that I admire her kindness and her determination to better herself in the face of such a terrible month, and that if I could I would make sure her mother never says another unkind word to her ever again.
I should tell her that after decades of being a soldier, of being a grunt told where to go and who to kill, I haven’t felt a single drop of peace until I touched her and it was like my world was draped in blissful, peaceful silence.
I should tell her all those things.
But I can’t.
If I admit them, I’m signing my own death sentence and I’ll lose her forever.
Besides, Aerin deserves someone better than me. So I remain silent and watch her leave the gym, my heart souring with each step.
We’re incompatible. We’re opposites. She has her entire life ahead of her and doesn’t deserve to be tied down to someone like me.
I try to distract myself by showering under scalding water, but I can’t get my mind off her.
Every time I entertain just a glimpse of her in my thoughts, I force myself to think of Gina, my ex-fiancé.
She’s the blueprint of what my presence can do to someone, and Aerin is too good for that.
She doesn’t deserve to be hurt or scared, and I would do both of those things to her.
Then I would die knowing that I’ve left a scar on her that will never heal.
I scrub and scrub until my skin is raw, replaying my last night with Tina over in my head to remind myself that relationships and I don’t work.
It doesn’t matter how hard I try, how much I give myself to others, or how desperately I care for them.
One trigger, one second of thinking I’m back in the middle of a warzone, and everything good I’ve earned is snatched away from me in an instant.
Managing my PTSD has grown easier over the years, or so I tell myself. Sleep is still hard. Loud noises can drag me back if I’m unfocused. Touch is difficult.
But with Aerin? All those things come easily. I slept on Pidge’s couch after knowing Aerin was safe.
The explosion at the safehouse didn’t send me spiraling back because I was focused on her. I was able to maintain contact while helping her wash her hands.
She’s different.
Something about her is different.
Stepping out of the shower, I tuck a towel around my waist and face myself in the mirror after swiping some of the condensation back. Dark eyes stare back at me from above, eye bags, and weathered skin.
“She’s not different,” I scold myself. “You’re making excuses. Stop justifying it.”
Everything I feel about Aerin is neatly packaged in a little box in my mind and stuffed down as deep as I can.
She’s my mission.
Nothing more.
My resolve lasts most of the day.
I keep watch on Aerin while she has dinner with her brother, laughing as if our training session and rejection didn’t happen.
I shadow her as she spends the evening baking and is joined briefly by her father.
His presence is a stiff reminder of my fate should he find out I crossed the very firm line he placed.
They talk briefly about her brownies and cookies, then he takes one and heads to bed while patting his chest to try and ease the chesty cough he’s been dealing with the past few days.
The head of security warned me to keep an eye on him because a cough at his age can make him seem weak to his peers, so I’m prepared to step in with any number of predetermined distractions should someone unfitting glimpse Guido in his unwell state.
Aerin heads to bed a little after eleven and closes the door in my face. She doesn’t speak a single word to me, she doesn’t even look at me.
I can’t blame her.
I remain outside her room for the majority of the night until a night guard relieves me and sends me back to my room for rest.
In the solace of my room, one far too lavish for my tastes, I situate myself on the floor and attempt to clear my mind of everything and anything so sleep can follow.
Clearing my mind unfortunately unlocks the Aerin box, and once again, she’s all I can think about.
She runs rampant around my thoughts like a fever, so I force myself to do push-ups until my arms are stiff and aching from being overworked.
I turn to sit-ups and lunges, pushing my body to the point of exhaustion so that when I finally do tumble into bed, I sleep.
But sleep doesn’t come.
Every single time I relax enough to drift off, Aerin’s face pops into my thoughts. I can’t escape her.
The more I try to avoid her, the more she consumes me until I’m far too tired to do anything but embrace her beautiful face in my mind and the subtle warmth that rises in my chest at the thought of her.
Does her being off limits increase my desire for her?
No. I thought she was beautiful the moment I saw her in the restaurant.
Back then, I kept myself strictly professional with my eyes forward. But in my peripheral vision, I admired how gorgeous she looked in that dress with her hair up and her makeup perfect.
Her smile lit up the room, bright and full of life.
Until that family of assassins burst into action. My thoughts drift to how stunning she looked when I threw myself in front of her.
I didn’t think. I just acted.
There was even a moment of relief when I was certain death would come and I found peace in knowing I died so someone like her could keep on living.
“Fuck.” I curse the darkness, staring up at nothing while my heart races.
I’ve done this before. I can’t let this go any further. Aerin is not mine and she never will be.
She deserves someone whole. Someone kind and good and much more age appropriate.
Someone who won’t be killed for touching her. Or for kissing her.
Or for fingering her in the shower.
Fucking hell, what was I thinking?
Rolling over, I punch the pillow several times and thrust my face into the dent left by my fist, forcing my mind to empty.
As always, Aerin lingers.
In a flash, I’m back in that bathroom with her gorgeous body rolling like a wave as she fingers herself with drunken accuracy. Every detail is etched into my mind like a fine work of art.
Her fluttering eyelashes, her red lips curved into the perfect O, her chest heaving as she panted around her pleasure.
Her large breasts caressed by droplets of water, her wide hips teasing me with the spread of her thighs. Every detail of her was perfect and I was weak.
I couldn’t hold back.
Curling my hand into a fist, my mind surges with the memory of her hot, silky pussy clamping down around my fingers.
Her moans ring in my ears as if she’s right next to me in bed, and the intensity of her gaze when our eyes met sends a wave of heat right down to my cock.
Shit.
I’m hard.
Barely ten seconds of picturing her and I’m so hard my balls ache and my shaft throbs against the bed sheets.
What would have happened if I’d fucked her instead of helping her?
She was spread out like a divine gift for me, and she clearly wanted me.
Otherwise, she would have shoved me away immediately. What if I’d just given in?
What if I gave in now?
My cock throbs as the fantasy pours through my mind like a waterfall.
Kicking down her door and telling her that she’s far too good for me, that she deserves someone better and whole, someone who isn’t held together by anger…then kissing her anyway.
Her lips, plush and soft against mine, are the most addicting thing I’ve ever tasted, and she’s given me the briefest of tasters.
I’d kiss her harder and I wouldn’t stop. I’d run my fingers through her hair and caress her neck, shove her down on the bed and tear off her clothes to admire every inch of her soft, curvy body.
I’d shove my face in her giant tits and tease her pink nipples until they were red and swollen from my tongue and she was begging for more.
But I wouldn’t give it to her until I’d kissed her breathless and teased her until her pussy was soaked.
It’s not hard to imagine what her cunt would feel like around my cock as I take myself in hand and grunt into my pillow.
It’s a poor substitute, but with enough focus my rough palm becomes her hot, soaked cunt in my mind.
My pillow becomes her breasts, and the covers over my back morph into her arms clutching at me as I fuck her harder and faster.
I want to fuck her so hard that sound jolts out of her.
I want every breath to be laced with a moan, want her fingernail to tear into my back and scratch me up as pleasure consumes her.
I’ll fuck so deep into her that her pussy will mold to me and no one else will ever compare.
I’ll fuck her until she can’t walk, until her pussy is hot and throbbing, until her mouth is permanently open because I don’t give her enough time to breathe.
My hand moves faster and faster over my length, squeezing at the crown and twisting slightly at the base on every downward stroke.
I’ll fuck her until she’s flooded with my cum and then I’ll roll her over and fuck her again and again.
I’ll show her just how deeply I care about her by fucking her until we’re one and the same.
I want her pleasured cries to ring out through the estate so everyone knows she’s claimed and owned.
I want tears in her eyes because the pleasure is far too intense, and I want her to beg me for more even after I’ve pumped three loads into her.
I want her sleeping against my chest, soothing both of us into deep sleep.
I want to bury my face between her legs and wake her by mapping out every inch of her sweet pussy until I know her body by heart, until I can play her like a delicate instrument and make her cum until—
“Ah!” My pillow muffles my moans as my orgasm catches me by surprise, pleasure sweeping through me like a punch.
Unable to catch my release in time, I spill over my hand and continue to stroke myself through each rapid pulsing ripple of pleasure that spasms through my core.
“F-Fuck.”
Just as my cock begins to soften and my cum cools on the sheets, there’s a sharp knock at my bedroom door.
My mind’s soft from my fantasy and orgasm, but I grab the top sheet from the bed and wind it around my waist as I hurry to the door.
Ripping it open, still panting from my pleasure, my heart punches up into my throat at Aerin standing on the other side.
“Aerin?”
“Falco.” Her tone is flat but her eyes drop down to my waist, where one fist keeps the sheet covering my decency.
A light sheen of sweat clings to my bare chest as heat ignites deep within my gut from her wandering gaze.
There’s no way she can tell what I was just doing, is there?
Her eyes then dart up to lock onto mine. There’s not a drop of warmth in them.
“I came to tell you that Mom is taking me dress shopping tomorrow for the private dinner, so make sure you’re up early. She wants to beat the crowds.”
“Alright,” I reply, fighting to catch my breath. “Thanks.”
Aerin gives me one last cold look, then turns on her heel and strides off down the corridor with the night guard in tow.
In a moment of clarity born from my exhausted, pleasure-addled mind, the truth finally makes itself known.
I’ve never believed in love at first sight, but I understand now, understand why I can’t get her out of my mind for even a second.
I’m in love with her.
And I’ll die for it.